Flowers of sin
by Funeral Lilies
Summary: Slash! Malfoycest, LuciusDraco. Also BlaiseDraco, LuciusRegulus, SnapeDraco and SiriusRegulus. Lucius discovers Draco in bed with Blaise, and is furious with his son. Slowly, both Malfoys begin to realise love should perhaps be kept within the family...
1. Chapter 1

**FLOWERS OF SIN**

**Fandom: Harry Potter**

**Rating: M**

**Pairings: Lucius Malfoy/Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini, Lucius Malfoy/Regulus Black, Sirius Black/Regulus Black, Severus Snape/Draco Malfoy.**

**Set: Mainly during the Christmas holidays in Draco's fifth year. **

**Disclaimer: JKR owns all characters. **

**Summary: Lucius discovers Draco in bed with Blaise Zabini, and is furious with his son. Later, he wonders what it really was, that made him react so strongly... Slowly, both Malfoys begin to understand that there are feelings that might be best left unexplored.**

**Author's Note: I've written lots of Malfoycest oneshots now but this is what I've wanted to write all along, a chapter-fic with many different pairings, Lucius/Draco being the main one. Obviously, it's very slashy and very incest-y so don't read if that's not your cup of tea! Feel free to review as much as you like, I love everybody who gives me nice reviews! ;D**

**1. **_**Grey eyes**_

The boy had appeared in his dream again. It was only very rarely, that he remembered his dreams at all – now, for the third time this week, the sad, grey eyes had seemed to pierce through his mind as he woke, and it was as if he could still feel the cool white hands on his skin. _One more ghost to haunt him... _However, this one wasn't like the others; the many wild-eyed men, women and children in his mind, screaming in hatred and despair because of what he had done to them. Sometimes, he thought he heard strange noises just as he was about to fall asleep at night – sharp fingernails scratching at the door, trying to find a way inside; small, bloody corpses, alive just to make him suffer as much as they had, climbing the ancient stone walls of the Manor to find his window and...

Ever since the first murder he had committed on the Dark Lord's command, the terror of facing those he had killed had always crawled inside him like a disease. Naturally, he never allowed anyone to see his fear, knowing that showing any signs of weakness would be close to suicide. But they never, ever left him alone, all the weeping Muggle girls and their beautiful brothers, and there were some of those murdered children, that he wished he had never tortured and killed. Muggles were definitely a threat – children were not.

Most of the others didn't know, and didn't care. They thought killing was just a pastime, they enjoyed cursing people more than anything else, and never questioned anything the Dark Lord told them. Lucius had noticed – or was it just a figment of the imagination? – how a dark glow appeared in Greyback's eyes whenever somebody mentioned Draco in his presence, and the mere thought of that savage, that _beast_, even touching his son, was enough to make Lucius sick. And Greyback wasn't the only one of them who should never have been allowed into the circle of Death Eaters – though she herself believed she was the only one truly devoted to the Dark Lord, Lucius found his sister-in-law insufferable and psychotic. There was something about her, that just didn't seem right, something telling him that she would have killed anyone, even Narcissa or her own husband, if the Dark Lord told her to.

Lucius closed his eyes for a moment, but quickly opened them again as the only thing he saw with his eyes shut, was Bellatrix' sneering face. He was all alone in his study, an ancient book of curses lying in front of him on the desk. Mr Borgin had sold it to him for a "very special price" – not that he believed the grovelling old wizard for even a second – and Lucius was actually quite satisfied with himself for buying it. According to Borgin, it had been written in Persia, and many of the curses were far too dangerous to try – if they were interpreted the wrong way, practically anything could happen. Lucius felt a bit as if he was now the keeper of Pandora's box, and the feeling wasn't really a bad one. Of course, he would have to make sure it never fell into the wrong hands, but he was quite certain that the book couldn't do any serious damage as long as the one finding it didn't know any of the old symbols.

He got to his feet, putting the book away in one of the drawers. Feeling a little weary, he remembered the face from his dream again, and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. It was extraordinary, how vivid the memories were, given how many years ago it had been, since he last saw Regulus. The sweet scent of the boy's ravenous hair was still there, if he concentrated hard enough, and those full lips, the pink, velvety tongue hiding behind them...

He hurried down the hall, feeling miserable and embarrassed at the same time. Nobody knew he loved boys – nobody, with the possible exception of his wife, who sometimes gave him such knowing looks he almost panicked. He had never been interested in her body, though he had found her somewhat attractive during the very first years of their relationship. Now, there was nothing left, nothing to gain from pretending, as long as they were alone. They now slept in separate bedrooms – sometimes, when Draco was at school, Narcissa would bring her young Italian lover to the Manor, and Lucius would try to ignore them, though he often wished it was he, who had had the pleasure of inviting the radiant Italian youth to his bed. At the moment, Narcissa was staying in a luxurious Japanese hotel with the boy, and nothing whatsoever indicated she would be at home this Christmas. Draco knew where she was, even though he hadn't been told she had a lover not many years older than him. However, it seemed as if Draco didn't mind spending Christmas without his mother this year, and for some reason, this made Lucius very happy. He found it quite hard to talk to Draco these days – when the boy had been younger, Lucius had loved spending time with him, telling him stories to make him go to sleep, or comforting him after his nightmares. Draco had enjoyed his father's company as well, and had cried for days, when he found out he would have to go to school and live without Lucius. Now, however, everything was different. Draco had changed at Hogwarts, transformed into an adolescent boy who overslept every single day, who forgot to do his homework and who enjoyed playing Quidditch or making rude remarks about Harry Potter more than anything. Lucius was disappointed. Draco was his only son, his heir, and it was absolutely necessary that he was a top student. Narcissa used to say, that it really didn't matter, if Draco didn't get high marks in every single subject – but to Lucius, Draco's failures, as he saw it, showed an absolute ignorance to his own wishes and expectations. He still loved Draco, perhaps even more than before, but he never let it show anymore. At first, during Draco's first year, their relationship had been just as good as it always had been, but it was during the summer holidays that year, that Lucius realised Draco was slowly drifting away from him. His son was too old for hugs, teddy bears, fairy tales, nightmares, toys and soft, innocent kisses now. Draco was turning into a young man. By the time he finished his third year, they had had their first row, and the memory of it still made Lucius feel the pain of guilt tear his heart in two. He knew he had been acting too harsh at times, unwilling to compromise or try to understand his son's situation. Still, he wanted Draco to realise how important it was to be respected and powerful, and how very important it was not to bring shame upon the Malfoy name. It was all about the family, all about the blood. He would not have Draco letting him down any more than he had already.

The boy was at home now, though Lucius had seen him only briefly and hardly spoken to him at all. Draco wasn't alone this time – a school friend was with him; the tall, handsome Blaise Zabini, whom Lucius had noticed during his many Hogwarts visits. Blaise was a beautiful boy, but there was something in his eyes that put Lucius off a little, something that showed he was a bit too clever and cunning for being a fifteen-year-old. Lucius had always been attracted by innocence, by shy smiles and huge, wondrous eyes. Regulus had had it all.

He was just outside Draco's room, when he suddenly heard noises. Apart from this, the Manor was very quiet, and it didn't take Lucius long to know where the noises came from. Carefully, he walked over to the door and put his wand to it, muttering a spell as he did so. He could hear it all clearly now, and there was no mistaking – both boys were in there, and whatever they did, was definitely going to make him furious.

Without any second thoughts, he used the _Alohomora _spell and then opened the door, stepping into his son's bedchamber with his wand still at the ready.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw, and no matter how right he had been about the noises, he was still incredibly shocked. On Draco's bed, Blaise was lying entirely naked, his eyes closed and his legs spread. On the other side of the bed, with his head at the other boy's crotch and his back against Lucius, was Draco. He was naked as well, and somehow, this enraged Lucius more than the thought of what his son was actually doing. For a moment he just watched them, watched Draco slide the tip of his tongue over Blaise's skin, watched Blaise moan with pleasure and bury his fingers deep in Draco's light hair... Then, he made a gesture that, combined with a simple silent spell, caused the door to close with a loud bang.

Both boys sat up on the bed immediately – as far from each other as possible, he noticed – and stared at him, looking both scared and mortally embarrassed. Lucius avoided Draco's eyes, and focused on Blaise, who seemed to be on the verge of tears.

"Father," Draco said, his voice unsteady. "Please don't be mad at us! We didn't do anything wrong!"

"Quiet, Draco," Lucius said, casting a quick glance at his son as he did so. "I'll deal with you later. Now..." He raised his wand, his entire being wishing to rip Draco's friend to pieces, to punish him in the most cruel and forbidden way for what he had done to Draco. But before he had time to react, Blaise jumped to his feet and ran past him, making it through the door before Lucius could aim a curse at him. He heard the boy hurrying down the stairs, and realised it would simply be a waste of time to try and go after him. Besides, it wasn't him, that Lucius most wanted to punish. It was Draco.

He closed the door again, before turning to his son. Draco was still sitting on the bed, now – as Lucius was much relieved to see – covering his body with the crimson bedspread. The boy still seemed deeply ashamed, but there was also a glimpse in his eyes, a glimpse of something Lucius hated – defiance. This was not the boy who had once cried against his shoulder when he was scared by lightning, not the child he had held so often in his arms. The boy in front of him bore no resemblance to the sweet, naive Draco that Lucius had loved so dearly – or did he?

"I am very disappointed in you, Draco." For once, the right words failed him. He wished to exclaim his anger, his disgust, but the truth was, of course, that he wasn't disgusted at all. What the boys had done was shocking, because Lucius would've never imagined Draco doing something like that, but he knew that he wouldn't have been shocked at all, had they been just two random boys. He himself had done far worse things, even though it was long ago. Once again, the image of Regulus flew through his mind, and he wished that he had been young again, and that Regulus had been alive...

"I'm sorry, Father." Draco blushed, avoiding his father's gaze as if it wasn't until now, that he had fully realised what had happened. "I'm very sorry." Lucius frowned.

"You ought to be. I trust you understand the... arrangements we need to make, from now on?" Draco stared at him, clearly not understanding anything.

"Arrangements?" Lucius smirked – he loved this power he had over his son, loved how he could use it or, sometimes, be merciful and decline from using it.

"Why, surely you realise I can't allow you to ever speak to Mr Zabini again? But don't worry, Draco – I will take care of it all." Draco looked as if he was about to say something very rude, before stopping himself in time. As he focused on his father, his eyes were full of anger.

"It's my life," he said, his fists clenched. "You can't tell me what I can't do!"

"I am doing precisely that, right now," Lucius said in a low voice, "and you will obey me."

"You won't be able to control me when I'm back at Hogwarts," Draco said, his voice more defiant than ever. "I'll sleep with Blaise as much as I want, you can't stop me. Know what? He's not the only one. They all want me." Indignant by this, and even more by the smirk on his son's face, Lucius felt a sudden urge to curse Draco, to see him writhe and sob on the floor, barely conscious with pain. However, he quickly disregarded the idea, a tiny voice inside him screaming in protest at the thought of torturing Draco.

"I'm ashamed," he said, not entirely sure he was talking about Draco's actions or about his own thoughts. "I expect you to behave yourself from now on, is that clear?" Draco shrugged, but after a moment, he muttered something that sounded like 'yes', and Lucius decided not to bother him any longer.

"I'll see you at dinner," he said before opening the door and walking out of the room, closing the door behind him. As soon as he had escaped Draco's eyes, he hurried back to his study, trying not to think of what had just happened. Draco's huge, grey eyes... Had they always been like that? He leaned against the wall, feeling dizzy all of a sudden, images whirling through his mind. Regulus, his slender body and his pale, delicate skin... Draco with his silk tongue shamelessly exploring another boy's body... Regulus again and then, Draco...

Lucius heaved a deep sigh as he, like so many times before, wished Regulus would have still been alive, living at the Manor with him. Now, all he had was Draco – and Lucius wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad thing, that the two of them would be all alone at the Manor for the remaining part of the Christmas holidays.

**A/N: There will be more chapters, if anyone's interested in reading them...**


	2. Desire

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! This was kinda hard to write, but I hope you'll like it :)**

**2. **_**Desire **_

No matter how long he slept the next morning, Draco was still painfully aware of exactly what had happened the last evening, as he opened his eyes and stared into the ceiling. Immediately, he shut his eyes again, trying to block all thoughts of the embarrassing incident from his mind. How could he have allowed it to happen? It wasn't the first time they had done it, since they had come to the Manor for the holidays, and he guessed he had become reckless, certain that nobody would ever know what they were up to – after all, his father spent all his time in his study, and never cared what his son did when he was at home. Why had he been right there, outside his door, at that precise moment? Draco opened his eyes once again and sighed, wondering where Blaise had gone, wondered if he was alright... It was lucky, however, that his father hadn't been able to do anything to Blaise. Draco had hardly ever seen his father more furious, and had actually felt a bit scared that something really terrible would happen. His father was used to doing horrible things, after all, and Draco was quite sure he would take every opportunity to curse his son's lover if he ever saw them talking to each other again.

However – no matter what his father had told him, Draco wouldn't stop seeing Blaise. He _needed _Blaise, needed the nights when they shared a bed in the dorm, oblivious to what other people might think... Needed to hear Blaise's crude jokes and definitely needed him to talk to during Professor Binns' never-ending monologues. It wasn't at all about love, as Draco guessed his father thought – they were just friends, no matter how often they slept with each other. It was all a game, a game where they made the rules up themselves, and nobody was hurt. To the world, Draco was in love with Pansy, and he supposed that was a bit of a game, too... Pansy was a great friend, but he knew – had known since he was only a child – that he could never fall in love with a girl. Both Pansy and Blaise knew about this, of course, and the three of them made sure nobody except them found out the truth. Pansy and him sometimes made out while others were present, and used to hold hands in public, and Draco knew Pansy didn't mind. Blaise wasn't as scared of people knowing about his sexuality, as Draco was – after all, Draco was expected to do nothing that his father wouldn't approve of, while Blaise's parents accepted him for what he was. Sometimes, Draco couldn't help envying his friend because of this. Blaise's mother had been truly happy, when Blaise had told her he was gay – if Draco had told _his _mother the same thing, she would have probably been nothing but disgusted. Not to mention what his father would have said... Draco felt a little ill, as he once again remembered his father's expression as he had walked in on them... the cold, grey eyes, so alike his own, darkened with anger... and they had both been totally naked, and there was absolutely nothing funny about it, even if he would have thought so himself, if it had happened to someone else. How could he possibly ever see his father again, let alone talk to him?

Again, Draco wondered if Blaise had managed to get home to his parents, or where he was now. Draco wasn't really sure where the other boy lived, even though they were friends – it was only this autumn that they had gotten really close, and Draco had never memorised where Blaise was from. There were so many other interesting things about Blaise, and Draco felt very relieved that he didn't have to hang around as much with Crabbe and Goyle anymore. They were still his friends, and he supposed they would always be, but he was never sure what to talk to them about. Most of the time, he ended up shouting insults at them or making sarcastic remarks that they didn't get. Whatever he did, no matter how often they heard him be way too friendly with Blaise, or say nasty things about them, they would always come when he called for them like a pair of dogs. He sometimes suspected they had been told by their fathers to protect him, probably on his father's orders. At first, the thought had made him very annoyed – wasn't he capable of taking care of himself? Now, as he lay in his bed at the Manor, there was something in that, in the thought of his father trying to protect him, that made him smile a little. He couldn't understand why it made him happy, all of a sudden – if anything, he should be angry with his father for meddling with his life, shouldn't he?

Draco sat up and yawned, turning his head to take a look through the window. Sparkling, exquisite snow covered the lawns and the trees of the large garden, just as it should be at Christmas. He wondered, if perhaps he could sneak out of the house later, just to get some fresh air... but there would always be the possibility of suddenly standing face to face with his father – and Draco was definitely not ready for that yet.

Reluctantly, he left the warmth of his bed and got to his feet, shivering a little in the cool air. Taking a quick look at himself in the large mirror next to the bathroom door, he sighed, thinking about how he had been standing just like this the other night, body fully exposed, watching himself while Blaise was right behind him, touching him with long, talented fingers... He was used to always having a lover willing to be with him, whenever he wanted to... Had gotten used to it only this autumn, and it wasn't just Blaise, either...

He actually blushed a little, as he thought of the man he admired so, the secret affair that would truly give his father reason to disown him. It had been going on for a couple of months now, ever since one of the first weeks of the term, and despite how dangerous it all was, Draco would never think of ending his relationship with Snape.

The attraction had always been there – he knew it had. Of course, Snape hadn't desired him the way he did now, when Draco had been younger, but there had always been something special in the dark eyes of the Potions Master, as he looked at Draco. Draco, on the other hand, had felt great adoration and – not love, but something that quite resembled it, for Snape ever since his first Potions class. From the beginning, Potions had been his favourite subject, and he knew that Snape had noticed this. Sometimes, it occurred to Draco that the reason he admired Snape as much as he did, might be because Snape was the closest thing to a father that he had at Hogwarts. Even though it now embarrassed him a little, he remembered how lost and confused he had felt during his first week at Hogwarts, away from his parents for the first time ever. It had meant a lot to him then, having an adult to talk to if he ever needed it, a man who knew his father and who looked at him with black, inscrutable eyes.

His feelings towards the teacher had grown stronger as he himself had gotten older. Of course, he had never thought of actually doing anything about it – but it was as he was in Snape's office one evening in the beginning of the term, discussing his marks, that something suddenly happened.

Draco had been sitting in front of Snape, the teacher's desk between them, and darkness had fallen outside long ago. Snape had been informing him about the O.W.L:s and what was required of him in Potions this year, Draco had listened and asked as many questions as he could think of, partially to make their talk last a little longer. After a while, they both fell silent, and Draco avoided Snape's gaze, feeling a bit stupid. He sat with one arm resting on the desk, and as he watched his own white, slender fingers touch a parchment lying on the desk, he felt, before actually seeing it, how Snape softly laid his hand upon Draco's own hand, and began to stroke it carefully. Snape didn't say anything, and they didn't look at each other as this happened. Instantly, Draco understood. Feeling warm and dizzy at the thought of the Potions Master lusting for him, he smiled. Slowly, he leant over the desk. Still, none of them said a word, and Draco knew words would ruin everything, this moment and all moments that might follow... He closed his eyes, and kissed the man in front of him. Snape returned the kiss, and as their tongues met, Draco crept up on the desk and felt Snape's hands on him, caressing his hair, his back, his chest... Snape got up from his chair, his hands moving faster over Draco's body and his lips kissing the boy's neck and collarbone as Draco allowed Snape to undress him. He had never slept with another man before, only kissed Blaise once or twice, but it was after this first secret encounter with the Potions Master, that he began leading Blaise into the decadent spiral they were both still descending. At the same time, he took every opportunity to see Snape, and after a while, he grew accustomed to staying behind after Potions, waiting for Snape to lock the door and take him in his arms. Draco loved the feeling of being dominated, the feeling of being with someone who could protect as well as punish him. It was very different from the drunken nights he spent with Blaise – and Draco knew very well which one he preferred. There were drawbacks, of course – after a while, Snape hadn't wished to be seen talking to Draco outside class anymore, scared people might find out about them.

"Malfoy, I'm not..." he could say as Draco was kneeling in front of him, sucking his cock while Snape leant against the cold dungeon wall. Draco knew what he meant, and also knew he didn't believe a word of it. Not that it mattered much – what he felt for Snape was pure lust, nothing more, and if Snape wanted to live in denial, it was his problem and not Draco's.

Draco went over to the window to gaze outside, wishing Snape had been with him, right now, and that he wouldn't have to spend several weeks at the Manor with the sole company of his father. He wondered, with a leer, if his father had ever thought of other men the way he himself did? For some reason, the thought didn't strike him as totally improbable... It had been long since he had actually believed his parents loved each other, and he had heard rumours saying his mother had a young, beautiful lover. It didn't worry him – he had never worshipped his mother the way he had his father. It made his soul ache a little, when he remembered how much he had loved his father before he had gone to Hogwarts. No father in the world could have been more loved by his child, and Lucius had always showed how much he cared for his son, in a way Draco supposed most people would never have imagined Lucius Malfoy capable of. Now he knew – and had known for quite a while – that his father was a Death Eater and a murderer, and even if he wasn't very bothered by this, he still felt a little ill at the thought of his father coming home after killing an entire family, and then sitting at his little son's bedside reading him fairy tales... It shouldn't be that way, and Draco hoped his father had a very bad conscience about it. Still, he truly missed the bond that had existed between him and his father, no matter that he was older now and shouldn't care about such things. Sometimes he wished, that he would still have been able to go to his father's bedchamber at night and slip into his bed, just as he had done as a child when he was having nightmares. Now the thought made him blush and smile at the same time. He could imagine, how his father would put his arm around him and kiss him goodnight, like he had all those years ago...

Draco let out a nervous laugh, his cheeks hot and red. He was obviously going crazy, just because he hadn't seen Snape for so long... He definitely wasn't a child anymore, why then would he want to even speak to his father at all, when his father was the one who had forbidden him to see Blaise again and the one who never seemed to be pleased with anything he did nowadays?

It took four days, before Draco finally gave in to hunger and went down to dinner at six o'clock. He felt more than stupid, and slightly nervous, knowing his father would be in the dining-room, but what could he do? It was inevitable, that he would have to see his father again – besides, he had hardly slept at all last night because he was so terribly hungry. He descended the stairs slowly, listening for any signs of movement from the dining-room, but heard nothing. As he reached the door and went in, however, his father looked up at him from his place at the far end of the table. Draco sat down at his usual place, a few chairs from his father, and started to eat.

"Well, it pleases me to see you've finally come to your senses." Draco could sense his father was watching him determinedly, but merely nodded and continued to eat. Thoughts were whirling through his mind, thoughts that annoyed him and that he wished would vanish.

"I thought you might come down today." This time, Draco gave his father a very quick glance, before returning to his dinner. He guessed his father wanted him to say something, but he couldn't think of anything to say at all. Assuring his father, once again, how sorry he was might have been appropriate, but Draco was way too embarrassed to bring up that particular subject. It was bad enough, that he hardly dared meeting his father's piercing eyes. While eating, he wondered what his father did during those days when he was at the Manor – if he was studying all those dusty old books in the study, or if he was doing something else...

"Draco," his father said, and Draco looked at him, noticing Lucius' lips were moving, but unable to hear what he was saying. His father was watching him, his eyes sparkling in a way Draco had only seen before in Snape's gaze during their many secret meetings. He knew it couldn't be, that the idea was ridiculous and impossible – but still, what Draco saw in his father's eyes was pure desire, and as he thought about this for a moment, he realised he was definitely going crazy.

**A/N: Two more chapters to go now :D**


	3. In the calm, dark night

**A/N: ****Again thanks for reviewing :D I've had so much trouble with this chapter, even though I knew exactly what was going to happen... I hope the last chapter will be easier... I'm reading two amazing books right now – **_**Exquisite corpse **_**by Poppy Z Brite and **_**Bosie **_**by Douglas Murray (a biography of Lord Alfred Douglas, Oscar Wilde's lover) – and they inspired me a little when I wrote this, which was interesting :) I should apologise for Lucius being so very OOC here... It's a bit hard to keep him in character when he's feeling such strange things ;) **

**3. **_**In the calm, dark night**_

The images haunted him. He was used to being kept from sleep by the strange, scratching noises on his door at midnight or the nightmarish visions of rotting corpses climbing up to his window to rip open and devour the body of their merciless killer. Used to being driven to the verge of panic as he thought he could feel the smell of decay in the cool night air or hear the low, but still audible, sound of maggots feasting on human flesh. The worst nights were those, when he clearly thought they had all managed to get into his bedchamber somehow before he himself got there, and that they were all hiding in the shadows, waiting to come out and begin the slaughter as soon as he had gone to sleep. More than once, he had eventually gone to sleep in his wife's bed, when he knew she was unaccompanied. Neither of them liked being close to each other in the way they had been during the first years of their marriage, but Narcissa knew about his fear and never complained as he slipped into her bed, whispering incoherently about corpses and glowing, red eyes.

But – and the thought disgusted Lucius as much as it pleased him – what if there were much more elaborate ways for his tormented soul to find peace? Narcissa allowed him to share her bed, that was true, but she would have protested loudly if he had tried to touch her, had he wished to. The thought had crossed his mind, from time to time – even if she was a woman and therefore physically unattractive to him, she was another human being and he was lonelier than ever. He had had very few boys since Regulus' disappearance – some were Muggle rent boys, and he felt deeply ashamed for having ever laid eyes on them. It had all been so dirty, ever since he had lost Regulus and with him all the purity and beauty of love. Regulus had loved him, admired him and never wanted to be away from him. Lucius liked to think that he had been everything to the young boy – a friend and a lover, but also a protective father and an affectionate older brother. To him, Regulus had been love and beauty, youth and freedom – all at once.

The thought that had grown inside his head, the sick and wonderful idea that he so loved and loathed by now – he knew it could be achieved, and that was what frightened him. He was perfectly able to do what he had done to so many pretty youths in the darkest alleys of London, being skilled with both Memory Charms and the Imperius Curse. Draco would never know. He had potential to become a great wizard, no doubt – but he would never stand a chance against his father, even if he had been permitted to use magic outside of Hogwarts. It would be so very easy... and his son wouldn't resist at all, and it would all go so smooth, Draco's young skin soft and delicate under his searching hands...

However – it was wrong. He wanted Draco, and he wanted him badly – but putting his own beloved son under the Imperius Curse, only to be able to ravish him, would be just as bad as raping him without using any magic at all. Besides, what he desired most was for Draco to love him, to love and admire him just like poor Regulus had done. He imagined sleeping next to his son, holding his thin, frail body in his arms and kissing his pale face in the calm, dark night. It would make the nightmares and the paranoia vanish forever, he was sure of it – Narcissa's company could merely give him temporary salvation, but with Draco in his arms, he would never have to surrender to fear again. The thought seemed so wonderful, that he smiled to himself, as he wrote a most important letter to Fudge in the quiet and lonely study. If he could have Draco, he would be rid of the nightmares and ghosts forever...

Yes – the images haunted him, and he could no longer fool himself into believing it meant nothing, that the memory of his son's naked body kept popping up in his head, and that he got very hard just by thinking about what the two boys had been doing. Draco's hands... his lips and the pink, wet tip of his tongue... He knew his feelings were wrong and forbidden, and that nobody would want to associate with him anymore, if they found out what thoughts occupied his mind these days. Still – and he must smile again, as this old but cherished memory returned to him – he knew he wasn't the only one.

It had been in one of the earliest years, before the boy had even joined the Death Eaters. Regulus had been a little afraid to give in to what he felt at first, probably scared that Lucius, who was so much older than him and no longer a Hogwarts student, would take advantage of him somehow. It was true, that this had been on Lucius' mind at first – as the months went by, however, he had had to admit to himself that he was mad about the young, radiant boy. He was staying at the Manor on his own at the time – Narcissa wouldn't become a significant part of his life until some years later, and he didn't mind living alone at all. In fact, life at the Manor wasn't very lonely in those days – he used to throw big parties whenever he fancied, and there were always young Pure-Blood wizards more than willing to share his bed if he wanted to. Regulus, however, was the first boy who ever found the way to his heart. Shortly after he started seeing Regulus, he gave up on the parties and started pursuing his career instead, knowing how important it was for him to reach a higher social standing than he already had. Wealth wasn't everything – it could vanish from one day to another, and what he desired even more than money, was power. He needed influence in the Wizarding World – it would make him a very important servant to the Dark Lord, too, and that was perhaps what Lucius wanted most of all.

Regulus was always more important to him than the Dark Lord, however, no matter how scared Lucius was that his Lord would somehow find out about this. When they had known each other for almost a year, Regulus had come to stay with Lucius for a few weeks during the summer holidays. It had been an absolutely wonderful time – they had stayed in bed all day, kissing each other senseless, talking about Muggles and what to do about them, talking about each other and the future. Regulus had been so marvellously, deliciously young – he had agreed with everything Lucius had said about politics or the importance of blood status, and he had let the tip of his tongue play over the Dark Mark on Lucius' arm – tickling, teasing and tantalising. Once Regulus himself had a mark of his own, Lucius used to do the very same thing to him.

One night, a few days before Regulus would have to leave for his home in London, the boy began to cry, hiding his face in his hands, as they were both lying in Lucius' bed. Lucius took him in his arms immediately, kissing his ravenous hair as he talked to him in a calm, soft voice.

"Stay," he whispered, stroking the boy's back as he spoke. "I'll be delighted if you decide to stay with me... you know I will..."

"I want to stay," Regulus sobbed against his shoulder, "but I can't... my parents will be worried... and they'll... suspect... oh, _Lucius_..."

"I know, I know... oh, you're such a little darling... why does it upset you so?" Regulus looked at him, his face wet with tears.

"But it's not just that," he said in a small voice. "It's... oh, how could I possibly tell you..." He started crying again, but Lucius kissed him gently on the mouth, making him stop.

"You can tell me anything. Do you really think I will sit here and watch you cry without even knowing what it's about?" Regulus shook his head, looking miserable.

"Please don't be angry with me," he whispered. "I know it was wrong... he knew it, too... and... and it was all long before I met you..." He sniffled, and went on:

"They would kill us, if they knew. Sirius... he hates me now, he won't even talk to me... and I don't know if I'll ever get a chance to speak to him again. Oh, you see, I... we were so very close, when we were younger... before he went to Hogwarts..." He took a deep breath, and Lucius caressed his soft hair, wondering what dark secrets the young, annoyingly handsome Sirius Black, a boy he loathed as much as he loved Regulus, might have.

"We loved each other," Regulus said, his voice trembling. "Like... like brothers shouldn't do..." He looked straight into Lucius' eyes, before continuing:

"He was to me what you are now. It was wrong, but we still couldn't help it... I... I used to slip into his bed at night when our parents had gone to sleep, and he was so sweet to me... He always was... But then, as soon as I was sorted into Slytherin, it was all gone, and we were enemies, all of a sudden... And... I'm so sorry... I just miss him so much sometimes..."

Lucius smiled reassuringly at him, kissing his forehead while sickeningly sweet images seemed to flash before his eyes... He himself had never had any brothers or sisters, and thoughts of unholy activities between family members had, if he had given the idea any thought at all, seemed to him as something that might occur in very decadent novels, but never in reality. Now, though, Regulus was crying like a child in his arms, crying because of his lost brother and lover... Lucius wasn't angry, or shocked, or disgusted – he was thrilled. Lust awoke inside him like a roaring beast at the thought of the young, beautiful Black brothers in each others arms, kissing and touching in the dark, dark night... He held Regulus close until the boy had fallen asleep, tears still sparkling in his eyelashes. He had always been very fond of the boy, willing to give him whatever he wanted – but it was in that moment, as he watched his young, sleeping lover and smiled at the thought of his dark, wonderful secret... In that particular moment, Lucius realised how much he truly loved Regulus.

Of course, it wasn't the same thing. Sirius and Regulus had been the same age, they had been young and innocent – Lucius was well over forty, and Draco was a boy of fifteen. Still, as he sat in his study trying to concentrate on his letter to the Minister, Lucius thought to himself that there was nothing wrong about the way he was feeling. Paternal love taken just a little too far... but he would never ever do anything Draco didn't want him to... Somehow, if it could only be as he secretly wanted it to... that, by some lucky chance, something might happen between them... and that Draco would desire it as much as he himself did...

He stayed up late that night, knowing by now that trying to get some sleep would be futile. No matter how hard he tried, the letter never seemed to read quite like he wanted it to, and he was furious with himself for not being able to write a simple message to Fudge. Images, always the wrong images whirling through his mind... distracting him...

Suddenly – so suddenly, that Lucius wasn't sure he had actually heard it at first – someone knocked on the door. Feeling slightly alarmed, but somewhat relieved that it wasn't the horrifying noise of sharp nails scratching at his door again – he told the visitor to enter the room.

It was Draco. He was still dressed, looking as pretty as ever, and Lucius had to brace himself not to say anything foolish. The expression on his son's face showed that he was slightly embarrassed about making this sudden visit.

"I just thought..." he said, looking as though he hadn't thought anything at all. Lucius put his quill down quickly and put it in a drawer with the letter and all his notes, somewhat thrilled that Draco had come to see him. It hadn't happened for many years, and now, everything was very different. He felt dizzy, as he looked into the boy's pale, beautiful face, and couldn't understand why Draco had come at this late hour.

"It's silly that we never talk anymore, Father," Draco said, looking down at his shoes. "I'm only saying... here we are, and we don't even see each other, and it feels like I don't know you at all, anymore..." Lucius stared at him, not sure what to say. Was this really the same boy who had ignored every single thing he had said for so many years now? All of a sudden, it seemed as though the little boy he had loved so dearly had finally returned, although in a much more mature version. Lucius thought, that Draco had never been prettier than right now, standing in front of his desk in the middle of the night.

"I'm glad you tell me this, Draco. Come here." He conjured an armchair and placed it close to his own chair – Draco sat down, looking at him with huge, grey eyes.

"I'm sorry – you were working on something, weren't you, Father?"

"It's not important. Now... I'm afraid I haven't been a very good father, have I?" Draco blushed a little – Lucius found, that this made him even more adorable.

"Oh, I've never thought... It's not that I..." Lucius smirked, looking intently at his son's face.

"I've been neglecting you," he said, his voice much softer than it had been in many years. "And I'm sorry about it. I... I suppose I haven't been aware of how badly I have treated you..." He looked at Draco's fine features, his full lips and his light hair, wishing he had been allowed to caress that beautiful face and those elegant, slender hands.

"I'm sorry too, Father... I haven't been a very good son sometimes, but I'll... I'll change..." Draco blushed even more, and Lucius understood he was thinking about the incident with the Zabini boy.

"I don't wish for you to change, Draco," he said in a low voice, hoping Draco would understand how serious he was. Draco nodded, slowly, avoiding his father's gaze.

"Father, I... When I was younger, we were so close... I used to worship you so much..." Lucius' eyes widened a little – luckily, the boy was determinedly looking another way, and didn't see it.

"I know that, Draco," he said. "I'm sure I worshipped you even more... You were... you are the only one I love." He regretted it immediately. Surely, there was nothing wrong about a father loving his son – but the way he had said it, the way his voice had trembled and the way his eyes had desperately tried to meet Draco's... It was all wrong. Draco would notice, he would certainly notice now – and he would leave.

"Father." Draco looked straight into his eyes now, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I... Have you ever... loved somebody _else_?" The last word seemed strange, it lingered like a scent of bad perfume in the small room, making Draco look tense and ashamed, and Lucius feeling as if he was losing control of the situation rapidly. He thought about the question for a short moment, wondering what kind of answer Draco might expect. Then, he realised it didn't matter.

"Yes," he said. Draco nodded. The look in his eyes was curious and interested – and a little sad.

"A woman?" Lucius looked away instantly, his heart beating violently as he wondered, if Draco _knew_...

"A beautiful boy," he said with a very low, barely audible voice. "He died long ago." Draco's eyes were huge and grey and filled with sadness.

"I'm sorry, Father." He got to his feet, slowly. Then, he looked at his father and caressed his cheek softly, carefully. Lucius looked straight into his son's eyes, his entire body trembling as Draco's white fingers touched his skin.

"Goodnight," he whispered, and Draco smiled softly at him before leaving the study. Lucius didn't move, but remained in his chair long after Draco had gone. He stared out into the dark room, not a cell in his body fearing the wrath of his rotting victims. Draco had come to him... touched him... and Lucius had told his son his deepest, best kept secret. It had been a foolish thing to do – still, he didn't regret it at all.

**A/N: Only one chapter left now... ****Reviews are as appreciated as always:D**


	4. Father and son

**A/N: Here's the final chapter :) **

**4. **_**Father and son**_

Snowflakes landed on his face, instantly melting to water trickling like tears down his cheeks. He was alone. The garden looked like a fairyland, just as it had when he was a little boy, with snowy trees and the water in the pond turned to shiny ice. It was beautiful, the perfect setting for yet another Christmas – but Draco didn't desire perfection anymore. He had learnt, after spending fourteen Christmases with parents that barely talked to each other, that it didn't matter much how exquisite the Manor looked when it was snowing or how many gifts he received. There was always something missing. It hadn't bothered him very much during his childhood, when his father had used to be there, right by his side, on Christmas just like always. But when Draco came to Hogwarts, he realised there was something about this particular holiday, something he had never experienced. It was all about warmth and happiness, about spending time with the people you cared for. At first, he had felt very bad for feeling he had missed something important – but during the Christmas holidays that year, he saw it clearly. The Malfoy Christmas was luxurious, magnificent, beautiful – but it was also cold, and very lonely. His mother used to dress in elegant robes and wear her jewels, and spent most of the time drinking wine and chatting to some friend she had invited. She used to make Draco dress in fashionable and expensive clothing as well, no matter how much he resisted. His father, of course, looked radiant on Christmas Day as well as always, but there was something about Christmas that seemed to annoy him. He had spent most of the holiday with Draco every year before they had fallen out with each other, that was true, but it was as if he had something on his mind, bothering him, all the time he opened presents with his son or watched Draco making snow angels in the garden. In recent years, Lucius had hardly bothered to come out of his study at all during Christmas. It saddened Draco a little, that not even his mother would be around this year, even though he normally didn't miss her at all. They were a family after all, and Christmas wasn't even a week away. He wondered, if he should perhaps talk to his father about it... then again, it was obvious that his father didn't think it was a holiday worth celebrating. He would probably be nothing but irritated, and besides, Draco was far too old to care about holidays. In spite of the cold, he blushed a little as he imagined how childish he would seem if he came to his father just to discuss something like this. No, he would have to do without it – it was just a stupid day for little children after all. He wouldn't miss anything.

He hurried back indoors, hoping he wouldn't catch a cold. The Manor was silent as always – the grandeur and peacefulness of the house belonging more to a mausoleum than to a place were people actually lived. Draco couldn't help wondering what his father was doing. These thoughts had occurred more and more often recently, and they always made him feel slightly embarrassed – why couldn't he stop thinking about it... about him? They hadn't seen each other since the other night, in the study, and Draco wasn't really sure if he should erase the conversation from his mind, or cherish the memory of their meeting forever. It had all been so very strange... He had been in his room, trying to read, and it had suddenly occurred to him that he should go to see his father. That it was important that they finally talked, that they weren't strangers to each others anymore. Of course, he had had other motives too. It seemed as if he always had ulterior motives, no matter what he did – but he supposed his father was just the same. The thought made him feel a bit better – he hadn't forgotten the desire he had seen in his father's eyes some days ago, as well as the other night in the study. And he definitely hadn't forgotten the revelation, the secret his father had kept to himself for so long. The love of his life, had been a boy... Draco wasn't sure if he was supposed to feel bad for making his father tell him about it, or not. It was something very private, and the story behind it didn't seem to be a happy one. Still, he couldn't help but smile at the thought of his discovery. His father liked boys. Most young men hearing about something like that wouldn't be very happy about it – Draco, however, was ecstatic. He wondered who the boy had been, the beautiful youth who had stolen his father's heart long ago. Probably some young, wealthy Pureblood boy, someone who had lived here at the Manor with him, sharing his bed... but it didn't matter, who he had been. It was all history now, and both Snape and Blaise were history as well – Draco would never sneak into Snape's dungeon again for another meeting in private with the Potions Master, and he would refuse if Blaise ever wanted to sleep with him again. It wasn't about whether it was wrong or not – Draco couldn't care less about that. But there was something deep inside him, something wishing for him to be the property of one man only. To stay true to that man, and to share his bed every time he was at the Manor. He had made his choice – the problem was, that he didn't know how he could possibly let his father know how he felt.

Suddenly, there was a tapping noise at one of the windows next to the door, and as Draco turned his head, he could see a tiny, black owl staring at him from outside, its feathers ruffled. Had to be a message for his father – he himself wasn't used to getting letters, at least not when he was at home. Instantly, it occurred to him that this way, he would have to take the letter to his father personally – that would be only natural, wouldn't it? He opened the door and the little bird flew inside, landing on Draco's outstretched arm. Despite what people might think, he was actually quite fond of animals, as long as they didn't hurt him. This owl, though, looked very harmless, and he smiled as he reached out to stroke it. Then, he took the scroll of parchment tied around its leg, and examined it. His own name was written on it in violet ink, and the handwriting was easily recognised. It was a letter from his mother.

Draco heaved a deep sigh, as he realised he wouldn't have a reason to visit his father after all. Of course, he wouldn't have been able to say or even imply what he really wished to tell his father, but if he had talked to him for just one minute, he might still have noticed something, gotten some sort of a clue to what was going on... He knew he couldn't stand the uncertainty for much longer, but he also knew there was no way feelings like the ones roaring in his chest would be allowed or forgiven. It would be a terrible risk, if he was going to try and find out what his father truly wanted. They had just started to get to know each other again, to accept each other – what if he destroyed that? He wouldn't be able to talk to his father again if that would happen, that was for sure. Nobody would want to associate with him, if they found out.

Smiling reassuringly at the owl, though it was he himself who needed reassurance, Draco opened the scroll. The first thing he saw, was a small photograph that had been glued to the parchment by magic. It was a portrait – he saw a pretty, dark-haired girl, about his own age, who was winking and smiling at him. He could guess what this was about, and it made him feel both tired and annoyed. It wasn't the first time his mother had done this.

"Darling,

I'm having a wonderful time here in Tokyo. I'm awfully sorry I'm not able to be at home for Christmas, but you're too old to care about such things, aren't you? I will buy gifts for you here and you can have them when I return. I wanted to tell you that I've met the most charming family during my stay here. They're from Spain, the man is from an ancient Spanish Wizarding family and his wife is the descendant of a well-known family of French wizards. They have a daughter, Rosita, who is the same age as you and an absolutely adorable girl. Doesn't she look beautiful in that picture? Oh, Draco, I can tell by talking to her that the two of you have a lot in common – wouldn't it be lovely if I asked Rosita and her parents to visit us this summer? I'm sure your father would agree with me, when I say that this girl, because of her blood, her beauty and her wealth, would make an excellent wife for you in the future. Think about it, darling. Rosita's parents would love to meet you, and so would the girl herself.

Have a wonderful Christmas, Draco.

Your Mother"

Draco let a single foul word escape his lips, as he once again gazed at the photograph. So, this was the future his mother wished for him to have? The Spanish girl was in deed beautiful, but he knew his mother could force him to spend day after day with her to get to know her, and he still wouldn't feel a thing. He supposed he would have to marry eventually, since the fate of the Malfoy family rested in his hands. But he would never be happy with a girl – no matter how pretty and intelligent and kind she was, he wouldn't be satisfied. If his mother had been a different person and their relationship had been closer, he might have considered telling her how he felt a long time ago. If she had been like Blaise's mother, or like any other woman who actually loved her children no matter what, maybe she would have stopped sending him letters and photographs of girls she wanted as her daughters-in-law. Perhaps she would have supported him, and invited his boyfriends to visit the Manor during holidays.

Draco knew, however, that it was useless to fantasise about how things could have been. His mother didn't love him for his own sake – if she loved him at all. Besides, it all wasn't just about being gay anymore. He was walking down a far more dangerous path now – and no mother in the world would have supported what he was now dreaming of.

That night, he came down to dinner at six as usual. His father was there, and Draco felt how he turned hot and cold at the same time, as he sat down and looked into his father's eyes.

"I..." he said, then realised he couldn't think of anything to say at all. What kind of stupid situation was this? Here he was with a man he had known his entire life – and the mere thought of being in the same room as that man, made him feel dizzy and excited.

"I... I got an owl from Mother today." He tried to sound casual, but knew he failed horribly. His father gave a short nod.

"From Japan?"

"Yes." They looked into each other's eyes, and Draco realised his father looked weary, as though he hadn't slept at all last night. Could it be... because of their talk in the study?

"So... what did she write?" Draco sighed, remembering the photograph again.

"She sent me a picture of some girl, and said she wanted me to meet her this summer." His father raised his eyebrows.

"I see. That seems to be quite a hobby of hers, don't you think? Finding suitable wives for you... Draco." Draco removed his gaze from his father's handsome face, feeling happy and relieved that it seemed his father was on his side in this matter.

"I suppose so," he said, starting to eat. For a while, neither one of them spoke. Draco could feel how tense his entire body had become, how aware of his father's presence it was.

"I... I'm not very hungry. I think I'll try to get some rest instead." He got to his feet, not quite sure what he was doing. Why had he allowed the situation to get so out of hand that he wasn't even able to see his father at dinner anymore? How long would this go on?

"Are you feeling... unwell?" Draco was by the end of the table, just beside his father, and as their eyes met, he definitely thought he saw something in his father's eyes that wasn't supposed to be there. There was concern, yes, but then there was something else, that hid behind it but still was visible. Desire again? All that, what he thought he had seen in his father's eyes before, had to be imagination and nothing more. Things were hard enough without him fooling himself his feelings were returned.

"Oh, I... just a little, it's... it's nothing..." His father was silent for a moment. Then, he reached out to put his hand on Draco's arm, his thumb slowly caressing his son's naked skin.

"You are such a sweet boy, Draco," he said in a low voice. "I'm sure you'll feel better once you've had some sleep." He smiled a little, and let go of Draco's arm. Draco hurried to the hall and up the stairs, before quickly entering his bedchamber and closing the door. The touch had been so very soft, yet so determined... and that _smile_... He shook his head and slipped into bed, after undressing and putting his pyjama trousers on. It was dark outside, and the room was quiet – still, Draco wasn't able to go to sleep. There was far too much on his mind right now... and he supposed he would have to do something drastic, like drinking a passion-killing potion or something like that, to finally escape this trap he was in. That was, if all those things his father had done and said had meant nothing, if the desire in his eyes had been something else. Draco didn't know. He shut his eyes, but the only thing he saw in the darkness of his mind, was his father. It was no use. He wouldn't be able to sleep – not now, and maybe not ever again.

It was only a few minutes later – at least he thought so – that he heard somebody was knocking at his door. It was obvious who it was, and he sat up in the bed, unable to think as he saw the door open slowly. He could see his father standing in the doorway, watching him.

"Did I wake you?" Draco shook his head, wondering why his father had come to see him. He saw his father closing the door softly, and realised that he wasn't properly dressed at all. It made him feel vulnerable, and he tried to cover himself with the sheets, wondering why he always had to be more or less naked when his father came to see him in his room. As he once again remembered the terribly awkward situation when his father had walked in on him and Blaise, he blushed. In one way, it felt even worse now – he didn't want his father to see him like this, semi-naked in his bed, and still he wanted it very, very much. He wondered, if his father thought he was beautiful, like the other boy?

Without speaking, Lucius made a gesture, and Draco saw how a lit candle, that hadn't been there before, was suddenly glowing and sparkling on his bedside table.

"Draco, I felt I... needed to see you." Draco's eyes widened, as his father sat down next to him on the bed, looking intently at him.

"Why?" There was something in his father's voice that intrigued him, more than usual... He let his gaze rest on the other man's hair, remembering how he had loved to play with it when he was little. He couldn't help but wonder if it would still feel just as soft and silky.

"You remember me telling you about a boy...?" His father looked slightly bothered now, and Draco couldn't understand what this talk really was about. The boy...

"Yes." Lucius hesitated a little, avoiding Draco's eyes before continuing.

"Nobody knows about... this. I hope you won't tell anybody. Do you understand?"

"Of course, Father. I'd never tell." His father nodded, looking relieved.

"Good, good..." He fell silent, and Draco noticed how his eyes flickered, as though he didn't know what to set his gaze on. Slowly, he took his father's hand and caressed his fingers gently, one by one. Lucius gasped – then, he released his hand from Draco's grip and put it on his son's chest, stroking him.

"Father..." Draco threw off the sheets – they were only in the way now – and when his father's soft fingertips moved over his naked skin, he knew that this was definitely what he had wanted all along.

"Kiss me," he whispered, and his father leant down over him, strands of his long hair brushing against Draco's bare shoulder as their lips met. He opened his mouth, and their tongues intertwined, as they pressed their bodies close together. Draco knew what they were doing was wrong, that it was a sin above other sins and that he could never tell anyone about the love of his life. It didn't matter. As the kiss finally ended, and he was curled up in his father's arms, he felt like a child again. They were looking at each other, both of them with smiles playing on their lips.

"My little darling," Lucius said, caressing Draco's hair. Draco reached up to kiss him, and then put his arms around him, holding him as close as he possibly could.

"I won't ever let you down again," he whispered, not quite sure what he was talking about. His father chuckled in a low voice, planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Don't think about that, Draco." Draco smiled, knowing that whatever happened, there would always be someone who loved him, who believed in him. He wasn't worried about Christmas anymore, either. He would spend it with the man he loved, the man he had always loved. It was more than enough.

**A/N: Finally, I managed to end it... The ending could have been so much better, I know that, but I chose to finish the story rather than abandoning it completely... **


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